The more I stare at the emails, the more I realize that Candace, for whatever reason, loves doing her job and even more than that, loves doing my job. And I don’t love anything about my job whatsoever. Now that I know what love is, I don’t want to be stuck where it’s absent.
I take in a shaky breath as the realization hits me. I need to find my purpose and my passion. I need to leave my job and take a risk.
I need to stay here, with him, and start again.
But knowing it doesn’t make it happen and doesn’t make it easier.
The fear will always hold you in check.
I check my phone and calculate the time back at home. Everyone is still asleep back in San Francisco. I can’t talk to my mom and ask her what she’d think of me moving here, even though the thought of bringing it up pains me. I can’t talk to Stephanie and Nicola and tell them that I’m in love with him and that he’s in love with me and that even though he’s messed up, I still want to chance it and be with him, permanently.
So I make myself a cup of tea, cuddle up with the dogs and stare out the rain pattered window, as you do when you’re feeling all pensive and moody.
I guess at some point I fall asleep, because I wake up to Lachlan coming in the room and planting a kiss on my forehead.
“Tough day?” he asks lightly.
I glance up at him, his face flushed from running. He looks like the picture of health. It’s hard to imagine just a few days ago he was hungover and burdened by his own shame.
“Yeah, exhausting,” I tell him, stifling a yawn. “Is it already half past three?”
He nods. “Aye but we don’t have to be at the gala until seven. You can keep napping if you want.”
My body does want to nap forever it seems but I’m not missing an opportunity to dress up for his main event. I even went shopping with Amara on Princes Street the other day, looking for the perfect gown. I mean, when else would I ever be able to wear such a thing? Every girl gets a Cinderella moment once in their life and this one was mine. I was going to exploit it for everything that I could.
I get ready slowly, enjoying each moment. The dress I picked up wasn’t that expensive but it looks expensive. It’s floor-length and black, with a high neckline and a back cut down almost to my ass. There are slits up either side to show off my shoes, deciding on my hot pink platforms, just so that I don’t seem too serious about it all.
Once it’s on, I step out of the bedroom and into the drawing room where Lachlan is waiting for me, already dressed. He stands up and we both take a long moment to take each other in. I thought he would have opted for a tux at this event but he’s in a navy blue three-piece suit.
With a kilt.
Dear lord in heaven.
“Oh my god,” I say. He looks like a fucking Highlander ready for a ball before the battle.
“You look stunning,” he says to me, coming over and taking my hand in his making me twirl around. “Jesus bloody hell. I don’t even think I can let you out of the house.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” I tell him, gesturing for him to turn around, “Let’s see all of you.”
He obliges. “Never seen a man in a kilt before?”
“Not other than the bagpipers on the street and I wouldn’t dream of doing this to them.” I reach down and stroke his warm, strong quads, my fingers flipping up the hem of his kilt and going up, up. Up.
I grin. “No underwear, huh,” I say, softly teasing him. He hardens under my touch. “It’s risky to get an erection in this. You’ll be tent-poling it.”
“Tell me about it,” he says gruffly. “But if you don’t stop man-handling me, we’re going to be very, very late for this thing. I’ll make sure of that.”
It’s always tempting, especially when he feels so deliciously hot, long and thick under my hand.
“I’ll make it quick,” I tell him, dropping to my knees and flipping the kilt over my head.
“Bloody hell,” he says with a throaty moan, his fingers curling into my hair as I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. The salty hit of him against my tongue spurs me on, wanting to make his eyes roll back in his head. He’s such a big, masculine man made up of so many dark and damaged parts, but the fact that I can ruin him with my tongue, mouth and hands is addicting beyond anything else.
It doesn’t take long to make him come, shooting nearly straight down the back of my throat.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice straining. “Love, you undo me.”
“Good,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and peering out from beneath the kilt. He’s staring at me with those lazy, hooded eyes and I know I’ve done a good job. His mood has changed from being slightly on edge to at peace. Maybe if I just keep fucking him throughout the event, everything will go smoothly.
“I’m ready to go,” I tell him, standing up. “Told you I’d be quick.”
He shakes his head at me and then impulsively kisses me. I love that he doesn’t care if I’ve just sucked him off or not.
I ask him if he’s going to call a cab for us, but since we’re taking Lionel with us, Amara comes to pick us up in her car. She also looks beautiful in a simple green cocktail dress, her red hair piled high on her head.
“Well aren’t you three the belles of the ball,” she says as we climb in. Even Lionel has a dark leather leash and a tartan bowtie that matches Lachlan’s kilt.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I tell her, proud that I’m the one who suggested her dress to her when we went shopping.
The gala is held at a hotel near the castle so it doesn’t take too long for us to get there, though Amara says she’ll drop us off first and find herself parking after. When I see all the fancy people outside, lining up to get in, I’m nervous. I mean, there’s even a person with a camera taking pictures of everyone as they enter the hotel.
“Is that the paparazzi?” I ask Lachlan.
He looks out the window and grunts, shrugging. Guess he doesn’t know but it does remind me that I told Jessica I’d try and write an article about the event. I bring my phone out of my clutch and check the battery power, making sure there’s enough juice left for me to take some notes and observations about the event. Just that alone makes the situation easier to handle.
I glance at Lachlan, studying his handsome face. He doesn’t necessarily seem nervous but that mellowness in his eyes is gone and he’s observing the world with a level of hardness.
“Hey,” I say softly, feeling nothing but love for him. I grab his hand. “Thank you for inviting me.”
He regards me like I have two heads. “Of course I would invite you. That’s pretty much a given now, isn’t it? Where you go, I go.”
But his words hang in the air for a moment because we both know that’s not exactly true. I wonder, if I asked him to come to San Francisco to be with me, would he do it? Would he give up everything for me? Why couldn’t we both be in a relationship where neither one of us has to sacrifice anything?
The world just doesn’t work that way, I guess. I’m not an expert on love, but from the love I’ve seen around me, it’s not always easy. Nicola had a hell of a time finding a guy – the right guy – before she found Bram, and even then there were some uncomfortable truths she had to come to terms with. Stephanie and Linden were friends forever before they made their stupid pact to each other and then Linden majorly fucked it all up, separating the two for a long time before they both realized they needed each other. And then my mother and father. They seemed to have an epic, fairytale kind of love story but in the end, death pulled them apart. The greatest obstacle of them all, something no relationship can ever overcome.
There was no reason why the road for us should be easy. I just didn’t understand why it had to be so hard. I figured if I ever met someone I loved with my heart and soul, that it would at least run smoothly at first, before the hard obstacles were thrown in the way.
But there is no time for pity and doubt, not now. I’d been with Kyle for years and years, after a long, slow courtship, and I had never ever felt for him what I feel for Lachlan. That alone has made it all worth it.